


Innocence

by Mustard_Fairy



Series: Finding Solace in Sucking Your Thumb [1]
Category: Marilyn Manson (Band)
Genre: Ageplay, Anxiety Disorder, Bedwetting, Comfort, Coping, Diapers, Infantilism, M/M, Situational Humiliation, coming to terms with a fetish
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-27
Updated: 2015-10-27
Packaged: 2018-04-28 12:48:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 12,711
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5091341
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mustard_Fairy/pseuds/Mustard_Fairy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Zim has a strange way of dealing with his anxiety. What happens when Manson finds out?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. one

Zim was always great at playing the guitar. People often said he was perfect. Women would drool over him on a daily basis, and who could blame them? He was adorable. He got so much praise for his mad guitar skills, and he was all too often told by fans that he was an inspiration to them. Zim was very grateful for all of this, but even with the constant praise, he still never felt good enough. He always had problems with his self esteem; He also had depression, and horrible anxiety. Manson knew this, and still chose him to be in the band, but why? Zim felt he didn't deserve to be in such a great band.

Tonight they played a concert with a rather large audience. It seemed larger than normal. With all eyes on the stage, playing could be very nerve-wrecking for all of them, especially Zim. His anxiety would skyrocket, but he tried to control it the best he could. He tried all kinds of different coping techniques, but only found one that would truly work every time.

By the end of the concert, he was shaking. What if he didn't play well enough? He did his absolute best, but what if it just wasn't enough to satisfy the crowd of roaring fans? He left the stage, biting his nails down in the process. It was one of his bad habits. All five members left the stage, praising each other for playing a good show. It seemed that Zim got the most praise, though.

"You really know how to shred a guitar, man." said Manson, with a gentle pat on the back.

"It's always nice to play on stage with you." said Pogo.

"Amazing, as always," said Ginger, as he offered a warm smile.

Zim said nothing. He kept his gaze slightly downward and the tips of his blistered fingers to his mouth, as he tried to control the trembling in his knees. But what if they were just lying to make him feel better? The band knew of his problems, and were always trying to help. But what if they were secretly looking to replace him? Pogo and Manson exchanged worried looks after noticing Zim's behavior. "You...you alright, Zim?" Pogo asked. Zim was still mute as he simply nodded. The two older men looked at each other once more. "Well, once everyone's cooled off, we're all gonna go head over to the hotel bar," said Pogo, "you wanna come along?"

Zim allowed himself to look up, and he forced his fingers from his mouth. He drew a shaky breath, and finally spoke, "Uh...no thanks," his voice was soft and hushed, "I think I should rest." His eyes shifted away from theirs. Eye contact could be hard for him. The other two nodded, slight disappointment in their eyes. "Well, you know, you're obviously welcome to come party with us if you change your mind," said Manson, offering a rather devilish grin. Zim nodded and gave the faintest smile back, before turning around and walking off.

Manson knew something just wasn't right.

You see, Zim's preferred way of coping was very different than any other method. The others would never work for him, and if they did, it wouldn't last. But this way, was both comforting and extremely helpful. This method was subconscious regression.

For some reason, playing the role of a newborn baby boy was the best way for Zim to cope. He kept this to himself, always. Even though it helped a great deal, Zim felt incredibly ashamed of himself. How pathetic could he be? Grown men weren't supposed to play baby behind closed doors, damnit! It just wasn't normal. It felt wrong at first, but then the feeling grew so very right. He couldn't bear to think about what could happen if the band found out, the band, the media, the fans. The big tough guitarist of the world's most hated band was infantile. He felt like such a joke.

Undeniable panic was rushing through him as he made his way down the hotel hallway. He needed his safe place, and quickly if he wanted to save himself from panicking himself sick. His muscles tensed, his palms had gone sweaty, his breathing went swift, and he was trembling ever so gently. Tears welled in his unusually dull green eyes. His mind was rapidly regressing beyond control, and by the time he finally neared his hotel room door, Zim's thumb was tightly pressed to his mouth for comfort. It only helped a little bit, and no one was around to see such a shameful act, thankfully. The hallway was empty and the lighting was dim. It's unusual that there were no fans chasing after him. That only made his panic rise.

"No fans would want to chase after you, anyway," he told himself.

He quickly unlocked the hotel door, and even faster than it had swung open, it was slammed shut behind Zim's petite, shaking body. The tears that once filled his eyes to the brim now fell down his soft, reddened cheeks carelessly. Zim cried out in his emotional pain, sliding down his hotel door to the floor in a heap. A sobbing mess, the poor guitarist hugged his knees and slightly rocked. He just couldn't bear this weight upon him to be perfect, he couldn't handle the thought in his mind that he was never good enough.

He looked over to his suitcase in the corner of the room, all of his happiness hid just beneath the zipper, right there. His green eyes widened, and soon, innocence glossed over them. "Remember, you're a baby," he thought to himself, "babies don't have to be perfect, they don't have to play guitar or perform in a band." Zim shakily caught his breath and calmed a little bit, wiping his eyes. He continued on with his thoughts as he slowly stood to his feet. "Babies like you don't know any better than to babble, and drool, and play, and wet," he thought.

His lips curved slightly into a smile, "Yeah, you're a helpless little baby boy, Zim," and he made his way across the room to the large black suitcase, full of comfort and tenderness. His skillful, calloused fingers grasped the zipper and ever so softly he began to open the bag. Almost instantly, he could smell the sweet baby powder that loomed inside. His smiled widened, his tears soon diminished, "That's it, no more crying, you'll be all better soon enough."

The black bag flipped open, and everything he needed was in plain view, now. He let out a little cry of joyful relief, and smiled wide. He nervously looked around the empty room before going any further, almost expecting to find someone lurking in the shadows somewhere. But no one was depicted, he was alone. This was the perfect time for his regression to take place. Zim slightly covered his sweet blushing cheeks in a shy, boyish manner. He glanced down into the suitcase, and his eyes locked onto one essential item that no baby was complete without.

A nice soft, loud, and thick, babyish printed diaper was in plain view. It was like it was calling out for him to wear it. "Wear me, Zim. I'm soft and comforting, and I'll make all your troubles disappear. Wear me. Use me."

Zim chuckled a little to himself. While the other band members liked to turn to drugs and alcohol to escape from their problems, Zim turned to the wonderful world of infancy for an escape. It is a satisfying escape from reality, indeed. He picked up the soft crinkly undergarment, just the sound of it sent a warm sensation down his spine. He remembered the first time he came across such babyish disposable diapers made for adults, before. He remembered it well...


	2. two

He was exploring online at the time, about a year before. He would get the urge to coo and suck his thumb quite often. He never understood why, but he ruled it out to just being his sensitivity. Zim was sweet and sensitive by nature, after all. But after a while, the urges became stronger, more and more demanding of him to fulfill these nonsexual desires. It was like he wasn't in control of his thoughts, as the idea of being a baby made it's way into his mind more often than normal. Zim knew this wasn't normal, but of course, not wanting to make a big deal over something so...odd, he brushed it off. Of course, when he began to wet the bed and have dreams about being in diapers, he knew there was something wrong with his subconscious well-being.

Not wanting to create such a fuss over wet sheets, he took it upon himself to simply look it up on the internet. The world-wide web ruled it out to be incontinence, at first; Then as he dug a little deeper he found things on diaper fetish. He was a little intrigued about how some people could be turned on by the most random things. But this was not sexual to Zim. If anything, the thought of being helpless and in diapers made him feel safe and secure. So if it wasn't a sexual fetish, than what on earth was it? Surely was wasn't the only person on earth with this kind of desire...was he?

Most certainly not. A few moths later, the Marilyn Manson band payed a nice little visit to a sex store that they've been hearing about for ages. It had a very wide variety of sex toys, tons of different fetish equipment, role play gear, lingerie, and even books on sex tips and kinks. While browsing, Zim came across a small part of the store with a sign above that said 'Infantilism'. He tilted his head and pondered the word for a moment, before looking at the items in front of him. There were boxes of the same babyish printed adult diapers as his feet, even cloth ones with big pink and blue safety pins, change supplies and change mats that were big enough for adults, pacifiers and bottles with larger nipples than the ones seen in stores, bonnets, plastic pants, and rattles.

Zim was in shock and slightly confused as he silently gawked at the shelf before him. A lady dressed in leather came by him with a box, and began stocking the next shelf over, her name tag said Veronica. "Just letting you know, we're all out of adult onsies right now, hun," she said with a friendly smile. Zim blinked, "What? They have onsies for adults, too?" he thought. "Oh, thank you, I'm just looking," he said nervously, looking down and fidgeting with his hands. Damn, why must he always be so shy?

"Okay, let me know if you need anything," She said, turning back to stock the shelf with what appeared to be butt plugs. Zim hesitated for a moment. The band was here for a gig, tonight and tonight only, who knows when he would be able to come back here again. He wanted to look more into these items, but not with the band around. No way, he could never risk them finding out, they would tease him so badly! He had to sneak back here before the concert, if he really wanted to find out more about this.

Zim squeaked and quietly spoke up, "Um...how late are you open?" He asked in his natural soft, hushed tone. Veronica took note of his body language and gave a slightly knowing smile, "We're open until nine," she said with a wink. Perfect. "Good," said Zim, "thank you," he politely smiled and walked off to join the other members. The shop was within walking distance from the hotel, he could most definitely pull it off.

Thinking back, he honestly wasn't sure how the hell he got past all those screeching fans. But he pulled off the plan as if he'd done it a thousand times. The other members were so wrapped up in pre-concert stress, they didn't even notice him wonder off. He quickly arrived back at the shop, and was greeted by Veronica once again, and another lady dressed in leather with bright blue dreads. Her name tag said Shelby.

"I knew you'd be back!" said Veronica. She turned to Shelby, "He's the one I told you about," she said. Shelby smiled, "Welcome back!" She noticed his concert outfit and paused, "Shouldn't you be playing a gig right now?" she asked, surprised. Zim blushed and shifted from one foot to the other, "I...I got an hour," he grinned. The two women chuckled, "Okay, cool. So what can I help you with?" asked Shelby nicely. Zim bit his lip, he looked away for a moment and hesitated on answering, his gaze settled on the direction of the 'infantilism' shelf. Veronica knew instantly. "Awe, you're here about the adult baby stuff, aren't you, hun?" she asked in a slightly gushy tone. Zim swallowed the lump in his throat and nodded as his cheeks went red, "Y-Yes."

Veronica smiled and led him back to the isle with Shelby, "Talk to me, Honey Cakes, you seem like your searching for the answer to something," she said. Zim worked up the courage to tell her about his desires by the time they got to the shelf. "It's just..." He fidgeted with his hands again, "I always have this...urge." Veronica nodded in understanding, "Mhm, and what kind of urge?" Zim took a deep breath, "Well, you see...the thought of being little sounds really nice..." he stuttered a little, "a-and, uhm, I have these dreams...about being..." He paused for a second, "diapered." Shelby and Veronica looked at each other and smiled.

"Awe, how sweet!" Veronica gushed. Zim looked down and blushed violently. "There's nothing to be ashamed of, dear," said Shelby, "trust me, after working here for so long, I've seen worse." Veronica nodded in agreement, "Way worse." Zim looked up, "But the thing is....this isn't sexual to me," he said softly. "Oh it doesn't have to be," said Shelby, "Lots of adult babies regress as a way to cope with their adult issues." Zim blinked, "...Adult baby?" Veronica nodded, "Yes, you sound like you're class A. Do you have trouble dealing with stress?" Zim nodded and looked down, "Kinda," he squeaked. Veronica smiled a little, "Well I can guarantee this will help you out. Trust me, it's not healthy to suppress your desires, sexual or not." she said. Zim nodded in agreement.

The two lovely women gave Zim some advice, and suggested him different products. By the end of the visit, he was much more open. He went to the register with two packages of diapers, the necessary changing supplies of baby powder, rash cream, and baby wipes, a cute bat printed baby bottle, a zebra print pacifier, a baby blue rattle, and a lovely soft, plush brown teddy bear. He seemed satisfied with his decisions.

"Since it's your first ever time shopping here, and also your first time exploring your 'little' side, I'll give you thirty percent off," said Veronica with a sweet smile. Zim smiled back, "Thank you very much," he said. She bagged up his items, and slipped in a business card with the website printed on it. As she handed him the bag, she looked into his eyes and said, "I can tell you're sensitive. I think you'll be an adorable and sweet baby boy," she said with a grin. Shelby chuckled from behind her, and leaned over, gently pinching Zim's right cheek. He couldn't help but smile and let out a babyish giggle by accident. The blue haired girl laughed, "Oh yeah, he was meant to be a baby," she said, "Just listen to that sweet little voice!"

Zim blushed and thanked them for their help. "No problem, sweetie," said Shelby. Veronica called out, "You take care, little one!" as Zim left, with just ten minutes to spare!

Needless to say, by the time he arrived back at the hotel, Manson was bitching him out for leaving unexpectedly. But whatever, it only gave Zim more reason to regress freely for the first time after the show.


	3. three

Things since that night have been anything but normal for Zim. He was in the middle of unlacing his boots when he blinked, catching himself falling away from reality, and back to his past experiences. The first time regressing freely is always awkward, whether someone's alone or not, and when they are, they always have to look over their shoulder. If only Zim could just be open about this. Zim sighed and ran his fingers through his smooth black hair, pulling the lace of his boot undone. No...the band would never stop mocking him about it. They could never find out.

After a bit of careful undressing, Zim was now nude and completely calm. He picked up the diaper setting on the soft hotel bed. At that moment, it was like all of his emotions rose up, and breached the surface of his heart. He felt nervous, scared, and guilty, but at the same time, happy, and excited. He carefully unfolded the soft material, and with every crinkle that was heard, he seemed to grow more and more eager. Zim bit his lip when it was open, and laid it out before him.

The moment the softness came in contact with his skin, it was like a weight had been lifted from his shoulders. His stress was rapidly diminishing as he sprinkled his groin with a few silky smooth puffs of baby powder, and pulled the thick material up snug between his legs. Two tapes secured on both sides, leaving Zimmy clean and very babyish.

"I'm a real baby," he thought with a smile. He rose to his knees and quietly examined the padding encasing his pale bottom. It felt lovely and made his tummy flutter with butterflies. With a happy sigh, he gave his own butt a pat for comfort and went back to his suitcase. He retrieved his teddy bear, plastic keys, and pacifier. Now was the time to just unwind and play like the little baby he was. "I wuv you, Teddy," he cooed sweetly, hugging the golden brown bear to his chest.

Zim lay back in bed and babbled senselessly behind his pacifier, shaking the colorful plastic keys with amusement. "Wed," he softly said to no one in particular. He then giggled and pointed to the yellow key. In the midst of his mind right now, he was still learning colors and shapes. He wiggled and grabbed at his feet, thinking of wonderful, babyish things. The green eyes that were once dulled and plagued with sadness, were now big and filled with joy and innocent wonder.

He sweetly crawled with a gentle waddle, and roamed around the large bed, still cooing and babbling with intrigue. What was a guitar, again? Who was Marilyn Manson? It all didn't matter right now. Zim squeaked as he carefully made his way to his teddy resting against the pillows. "Ted...deh," he began to struggle with his words as he became more and more regressed. He snatched the soft toy up and cuddled it with a giggle. Mr. Teddy had a loving smile sewn onto his face. It was like he knew all about Zim's little secret, and it was okay with him. He promised to protect him and be his friend no matter what.

The diapered guitarist rose up to his knees and turned his head, noticing the mirror mounted on the dresser across the room. He saw his reflection and blushed a little. He looked so small and helpless. He really did feel like he was meant to be this way. "I want to be a baby forever," his adult self thought. No more stress, no more responsibilities, it would be perfect. Suddenly, an urgent, familiar feeling made him lose track of thought. The feeling made a soft shade of pink creep up his cheeks. Zim wiggled uncomfortably and slightly whined. He pouted and looked at his teddy, puzzled.

Zim needed to relieve himself.

It had been quite a while since he last did, sometime before the concert. He was finding it hard to hold it any longer. Before he allowed himself to slip back into panic, he laid back down to the bed, closed his eyes, and spread his legs. Gentle sucking sounds were heard in sync with the pacifier's soft bobbing up and down to the suction of his lips. That was a pacifier's intended usage, to soothe a baby's fussing. Zim looked quite precious as this went on to help relax himself. After a few seconds, a soft hissing sounded, as he allowed himself to flood his thick diaper.

"This is what diaper's are for," he told his subconscious, "Don't be ashamed." He opened his eyes for a moment, beginning to squirm and wiggle quite helplessly as he finished urinating. Poor Zimmy pouted and examined the swollen crotch of his diaper. He was now absolutely soaked. He huffed a little, "I kind of wish I had someone to change me," he whispered to himself.

Just then, things took a turn for the worst, and Zim found his heart thumping in his throat like a jackhammer, as an unexpected knock sounded at the door. "Zim? you in there?" A voice came from just outside, "It's Manson, I was kinda hoping to talk." There were no words that came out of Zim's mouth, as he was frozen, petrified with embarrassment. He wanted to close his eyes and disappear forever. "Oh, no no no no no! This can't be happening!" his brain scattered curse words to and fro around his mind. Manson knocked again, "Zim, I know you're in there, I can hear your breathing," he sighed.

"Dude, come on, you sound like you're having another anxiety attack in there, I'm worried." The front man wasn't always open about his worry for others, but he couldn't let anything bad happen to his guitarist.

"What? Was I really breathing that heavy?" Zim thought to himself with a blush. Well, of course he was, he was beyond scared right now. Manson could not find out about this, not now.

"I'm fine. Go away." Zim's voice shook, as he was on the verge of tears. Manson took note of that. "Just open the door, I have something for you," he said.

Zim drew a shaky breath and tightly shut his eyes. If he doesn't answer, Manson will only grow more suspicious of him. He pulled the pacifier from his mouth completely, and sat up, cringing at the soft crinkle that followed every move. "Hang on..." Zim slowly stood up and carefully made his way over to the suitcase again. He found a fuzzy black bath robe to hide both his very wet diaper, and otherwise naked body.

Manson was patient, and after hearing a bit of shuffling, Zim slowly opened the door to a crack. "What do you want?" he asked in a frantic, yet soft tone. The singer was puzzled as to what was going on with the younger man. "You....you okay, Zim?" he asked. Zim nodded and rubbed his eyes, as he faked being half-asleep, "I was...sleeping," he mumbled. Manson blinked, "Oh, sorry, I didn't realize." he said. "Uh," He felt a bit awkward, "here." The raven-haired singer offered Zim a white box, "There's a cafe here that's open twenty-four hours, I thought you might want something to eat," he said, "No meat, " he chuckled a little.

Zim took the box, and looked at it, then at Manson, who was looking a little flustered, himself. The guitarist allowed himself to smile a bit, "Thanks," he said. Manson smiled back and nodded, watching as Zim opened the door a tad bit more, and opened the box to examine it's contents. He noticed the robe Zim was wearing, and found it a little strange. "Dude, it's summer," he laughed a little, teasingly. Zim looked up, "Hm?" Then he realized what he meant, "Oh..." he blushed, "I was cold."

To this response, Manson gave a skeptical look. He reached out and touched Zim on the forehead gently. This made the guitarist flinch and squeak a little with surprise. He felt a bit warm, and kind of sweaty. The singer blinked and took his hand away when he noticed Zim grow more nervous. "You feel a little warm," he said. The flustered guitarist looked away, "I....I think I better rest, then," he said. Manson simply nodded, and turned to leave, questions and curiosity flooding his brain, "Feel better, Z, enjoy the food."

Manson had walked away before Zim could even thank him again. It only made him more nervous. Did he notice? Could he hear the gentle crinkle coming from his groin when he moved? He bit his lip and receded back into his room, shedding the out of season garment of clothing.

With his head down, he went back to the bed. "I don't feel like playing anymore, Teddy..." he whispered meekly to the bear as he sat down. His diaper was now cold and uncomfortable, and Zim couldn't help but feel fussy inside because of it. He let out a whine as he laid back and cuddled his soft bear to his chest. "Why am I like this?" His voice was shaken as his eyes filled with helpless tears.

He looked into the eyes of the plush bear, as if those little brown glass orbs held some sort of answer. But Zim's subconscious simply answered for him, 'It's just the way you are.' He let out a little sob as the tears began to fall, "But why..." His mind then began whirring uncontrollably from stress. All he could coherently think to do was to hold his teddy and cry. He squeezed the warm little animal to his bare chest with all his might, curled up, and did just that.

His final thoughts before accidentally slipping into a catatonic sleep were, 'Why, oh why, must I be so fragile?'


	4. four

While Zim's emotional state seemed to crumble in the depths of his rented room, two other band members were left at the bar, pondering openly about what could be wrong with their friend.

"Something's just not right" said Manson, "it seemed like he was hiding something."

Pogo took a drink of his beer and shrugged, "Drug use?"

Manson shook his head, "I don't know, but why would he do drugs by himself, when he knows he's got friends to do them with?" he asked.

"Well, the way I see it, there are three options," Pogo said. He held up one finger, "He's ashamed," he held up two fingers, "it's something we would never suspect he'd do," he held up a third finger and chuckled slightly, "or he just doesn't wanna share his dope."

Manson nodded, "those are certainly options, but I don't know," he took a drink, "he seems sober, lately, and depressed."

"Dude, maybe he was just jackin' it," Pogo laughed. Manson didn't find it that funny, as he looked at the keyboardist with concern upon his face. Pogo snorted, "You know Mazz, I've never seen you so hellbent on helping someone, before. You got the hots for Zim or something?" He winked and poked his elbow at the unimpressed front man.

"Shut up," He said, "I just think something's wrong."

"Well, what do you think is happening with Zim, then?" asked Pogo.

Manson shook his head and pondered the question for a moment. "Maybe.....he's cutting?"

Pogo laughed out loud at the singer's answer, "Okay...that's funny. You're big tough guy Marilyn Manson. You slice yourself on stage all the time, along with a bunch of other socially obscene things. And you're...you're worried that Zim may or may not be cutting?" He looked at Manson with slight disbelief.

Manson sighed, not sure of what to say, "Look, I don't know what's wrong with him, but I don't want it effecting his playing."

After a moment of thought, Pogo nodded. "Well, just keep an eye on him, then. We'll confront him if needed. That's all I have to say." He got up from his seat, and quickly turned his attention to an under dressed woman across the room. Manson sat there and thought about having a talk with Zim. He figured it couldn't hurt, but if things were to get ugly, he knew he would be in search for a replacement guitarist.

Manson sighed and finished off his absinthe, before deciding to call it a night.


	5. five

The morning was horrible for poor Zim, as he awoke to a violent banging on the door, and a burning against his groin. "We're leaving in a half hour!" he heard Manson's voice echo from outside the room. Zim felt disoriented, he rubbed his tired, makeup smeared eyes and sat up, only to hiss in pain at the uncomfortableness he was in. "Fuck" he huffed under his breath, as he realized that he fell asleep in his wet diaper, wetting it again during the night. He pouted his lips childishly, looking at his crotch, "Ugh, great," he sighed to himself. He knew there was a big red rash hiding under that cold, soaked padding between his legs.

With little time to spare, he quickly untaped said diaper and cautiously peeled it from his skin, biting his lip and whining at the harsh air against his exposed genitals. The diaper was discreetly disposed of, and Zim rushed to the shower.

Turning the knobs, and making the water as hot as he could bear, the naked guitarist slipped right into the shower. He was still mentally cursing at himself for forgetting to change last night. He sighed and closed his eyes as the water droplets poured upon his ivory white skin, his black hair drenched and sticking to his face. The calming shower brought back his little feeling that morning, but Zim knew now was not the time, he had to fight it and be a responsible adult, today. Rinsing the soap suds from his skin, he looked down at the reddened area around his groin, and sighed hopelessly. If he was really responsible, he wouldn't have let that happen!

He tried not to shower for too long, but when he finally snapped out of his daze, he realized he only had about ten minutes left to get dressed, pack up his stuff, and head out to the bus. With little time to spare, he rushed out of the steamy bathroom in just a towel, and went to clean up his discarded concert clothes. 'Sometimes I really fucking hate touring,' he thought to himself. He pulled out some clean clothes and shoved the rest of his items into his suitcase. He was in such a hurry that he didn't even realize his suitcase was zipped up only about halfway.

Zim finally began to calm down a little bit once he was dressed, but he began to miss the feeling of a diaper's padding securing his lower half, as he leaned down to lace up his boots. He wished he could just wear one under his clothes, but his faux leather pants would easily show such bulky material. Being in a tour bus with a bunch of other men, while not-so-secretly being diapered, would just be a recipe for humiliation. Someone would eventually find out.

He sighed and closed his tired eyes for a moment, only to be interrupted by another knock on the door. "Zum! Get your ass out here, or we'll be late!" It was Pogo's voice. Zim was quick to respond, "Coming!" He grabbed his guitar case and his suit case and headed out.

Zim walked down the hallway, rolling his suitcase along with him. Nearing the front entrance of the hotel, he couldn't help but feel like something was...missing. He quietly assured himself that he had everything with him, and pushed open the front doors, ignoring the bands screaming fans and paparazzi around.

It seems Zim wasn't the only one late that morning. The front man himself wasn't that far behind Zim as he went out to the bus, when he noticed something fall out of Zim's bag. He wouldn't tell what it was until he got closer. He stopped right in front of the item before him and knelt down. Manson gave a confused look, 'that's odd' he thought. The small, but questionable item he picked up was a pacifier. A pacifier with a large nipple, most definitely large enough for an adult, with a black and white zebra printed guard. How strange.

Manson thought for a moment, before placing the pacifier in his pocket. 'Why would Zim have one of these?' he thought. With questions unanswered for now, he continued his way out to the bus, thinking of what on earth could be happening to his poor band mate.


	6. six

The bus ride was less than exciting. Zim found himself nodding off a few times in a seat close to the window. He kept waking himself up suddenly, in fear of having an accident in his sleep. His mindset still wasn't a hundred percent committed to being an adult, yet. It was likely. He just couldn't risk it. He cringed at the thought of it, all the humiliation, all the teasing that would take place. It was best to stay awake. He just had to be sure.

He kept noticing Manson staring at him strangely. It made Zim nervous. Manson knew something was up, the front man was concerned.

"You feeling better today, Zim?" he asked.

Zim blinked and looked over, feeling dazed, "Huh?" he mumbled sheepishly. Manson cleared his throat. "You mentioned you weren't feeling well last night," he said, "are you feeling better today?" he repeated.

"Oh," Zim tried to make it seem as though he wasn't caught in a lie, "right, yeah, I feel better," he answered. "I guess I was just tired," he offered the singer a little smile. Manson remained skeptical as he nodded once, "Did you sleep okay?" Zim blinked, he could feel everyone's eyes on him as he pondered his answer, "Yeah," he lied.

Manson nodded again, ending the small talk. He found himself turning to Pogo with a worried look. Pogo's brow furrowed, looking confused.

"Is Zim sick?" Twiggy asked curiously. A soft hue crept up the guitarist's cheeks. "Nah, he's just tired," Manson said. Tired....right. Babies start getting fussy when they're overtired. Zim sunk into his seat and sighed as he looked out the window, trying to ignore the sick feeling of anxiety that he knew all too well, dwelling in the pit of his stomach.

Meanwhile, Manson nodded at Pogo, motioning for him to come and see him at the back of the bus. The keyboardist nodded back and went to see him. "Something's up," Manson whispered as Pogo was approaching him. They both stepped into a quiet area of the bus where no one could hear. "How do you know?" asked the blonde. Manson fumbled through his pocket in search of something. He pulled out the questionable, not-so baby pacifier that he found earlier that morning.

Pogo raised an eyebrow. "I saw this fall out of Zim's bag," said the front man. Pogo carefully picked it out of his hand and examined it. He sighed, "I honestly don't know, man." Manson shook his head, "Me either." He peeked back over to where Zim was sitting by the window, seeing the black bob of hair resting against the glass.

"What the fuck is going on with him?" Manson whispered.

****

"You're a failure," A voice bellowed out.

He cried in the dark, "It's not true..." he said, "I did the best I can!" He fell to his knees and sobbed in his hands, repeating himself, "...I did the best I can."

A squeak left his lips, and he looked up into the darkness with pleading emerald eyes.

"You're pathetic," the low angry voice bellowed above him.

He looked down again, as if to agree. He was ashamed of himself. What kind of man acts this way?

"You know, you shouldn't live a life that you can't handle," said the voice.

"But," He looked up into the darkness again, "You're wrong! I can handle my life just fine!" he cried, "I am perfectly capable!"

"You keep telling yourself that. You're in denial."

"No, it's true!" He insisted to the abyss.

There was a sound emerging from behind.

"Let me do you a favor." it said.

Faster than he could turn around, it plunged through his skull, crackling the bone. Immense pain shot through him. He screamed.

***

He screamed through his sleep, and woke to Manson shaking him. "Zim! Zim! Christ, wake the fuck up!" The frightened guitarist opened his eyes and ceased his hollering, his heart jack hammering beneath his chest. He found four other wide pairs of eyes staring at him, judging him. He sat up and looked away to catch his breath.

Manson sighed, relieved, "Fucking shit, man. You were having one hell of a nightmare. You were screaming bloody murder." Zim felt his cheeks go very red, as he absentmindedly looked down to make sure there was no piss streaking down his jeans. God damn him if he were to piss his pants right there. He could never face them again.

He subconsciously thanked no god in particular, when he found dryness. He exhaled, as his hands were shaking. "Are...are you sure you're okay, Zim?" Twiggy hesitated to ask. The guitarist didn't answer.

The unbearable urge to cry fell over him, as he looked up at his band mates, feeling pitiful. His eyes filled with tears beyond his control and he hid his face in his hands. "Zim..." Manson's voice went soft and caring as he stepped forward to put his hand on his shoulder.

Before his fingertips could even meet the fabric of Zim's T-shirt, he pushed him away.

"I'm fine."

He got up and ran straight to the bathroom, where he shut the door. He stayed in there for the remainder of the ride, utterly humiliated and in tears. How could he let these feelings rule his life like this?

No one else said much after that. Manson sat there worried. What good is a band with an unstable guitarist? He twisted the mysterious pacifier in his long fingers, as he sat there, just thinking.

He knew he really wasn't fine at all.


	7. seven

'Another city, another concert, another hotel,' thought Zim as he stepped out of the tour bus. He looked down at his boots and sighed, because he was homesick, he missed Chicago. But he looked down mainly because he didn't want to look at anyone, not after what happened in the bus. As he carried his suitcase into the hotel, halfway through the lobby after getting his room key, he heard Manson behind him.

"Hey, Zim, can we talk?" Asked the frontman. Zim thought he sounded somewhat desperate. "I'd rather not," he mumbled. He kept his gaze downward as he walked. "Please?" Manson asked. "There's nothing to talk about," sighed Zim. He stopped walking for a moment and gave Manson the smallest glance. The singer could tell he was distraught.

"Look, man, I'm not upset about what happened on the bus," He began. Zim cringed a bit. Manson paused for a moment, "But...I mean, I'm worried, Zim." he admitted. The guitarist shifted uncomfortable for a moment, before beginning to walk again. "There's nothing to worry about, like I told you, I'm fine, it was a nightmare, that's all," he was making his way to the elevator.

"Look, Zim, if you can't handle all of this, just fucking tell me, okay?" Manson burst out. It was enough to make Zim stop dead in his tracks. "..What?" he mumbled. Manson sighed, "No, it's just...I know you're sensitive, and you get stressed easily. I was just beginning to wonder if this tour was getting to be too much for you to handle," admitted the frontman.

Zim got tense with anger, his grip on his suitcase tightened as he spoke with an unusually low, angry tone, "I can handle things just fine." Manson blinked, he was taken back by the usually soft spoken guitarist's tone.

Then he softened once again, proceeding into the elevator. He turned to face Manson, finally looking at him with his sad eyes, feeling defeated. "Really, Manson, I'm fine, if I wasn't, I would tell you."

'Bullshit' thought the singer. He knew he had to do something to get Zim to open up, and soon before it really affected his performance. For now, he just brought himself to smile a little, and nod. "Alright, then." Zim gave a faint, fake smile back before the elevator doors closed.

That's it! If Zim wasn't going to let him in, then he's going to have to force his way in. The shock rocker then proceeded to Pogo's room, where he knocked on the door. The keyboardist opened it, and asked, "Well? Did you have a talk with him?" Manson walked in and sat on the bed, pinching the bridge of his nose like he was exhausted, "It didn't go like I wanted it to," he said.

Pogo sat next to him, casually lighting a cigarette. Manson turned to face him, "We have to do something, or he's gonna make the whole band fall right into the shitter." Pogo simply chuckled and pulled up his laptop, "Hang on, I gotta show you something." The singer gave a questionable look as Pogo pulled up a page. "I decided to search for similar things to that binky you found. Apparently, the one you found has a number five bulb, they're sometimes used for people with speech problems, to sleep with," explained Pogo.

Manson raised a nonexistent eyebrow, "Zim doesn't have a speech problem," he said, puzzled. "I know," Pogo said, leading Manson to another page. "Then I found out that a lot of people buy them because they have a little...personal secret." Manson wasn't sure what he was looking at, it was a forum for ageplayers. He read the questionable term on the screen out loud, "AB, DL? What is that?"

It was all unraveling before his eyes.

**********

Zim felt uneasy all night. It almost felt like a shift in the atmosphere. Toward the ending of the concert, he noticed Manson staring at him. It made him really nervous. When he stepped off the stage, he was overwhelmed with anxiousness once again. 'Just like every other fucking night,' he thought.

As he cleaned himself up in the dressing room, he could hear then other band mates being loud and destructive as usual. Maybe breaking something would ease his nerves. He got changed and walked into the hall. Twiggy was highly intoxicated as usual, "Hey, Zim me and Ginger are gonna go to the pub down the road, wanna come?" he asked.

"Oh, um, no thanks," he said. Twiggy whined, "Awe, you're no fun, you're like Mazz." Zim blinked. What did that mean?

Marilyn laughed, "Oh, shut up Twigs, I go out with you every other night," he put his arm around the bassist, "Pogo, Zim, and I just feel like staying in tonight." Twiggy snorted, "suit yourself," he stuck his tongue out before leaving with Ginger.

"Hey, Zim," Manson smiled, "wanna hang out in Pogo's room with us?" Zim fiddled with his fingers. He was on the verge of regressing. "Nah, go on without me," he said, "I'll see you guys in the morning." Pogo and Manson both looked at eachother, knowing Zim was stressed. Pogo shrugged, "Okay man, sleep well whenever you do." Zim nodded, "you too."

He went back to the dressing room and looked in the mirror. He sighed, "Why are you such an ugly person?" he asked the reflection. He sat there for a few moments, trying to gather himself with a cigarette, before returning to the hotel. Back to the room with his suitcases full of his comfort. Being a baby was like his drug, it always calmed him down in the end.

Zim smiled to himself, at the thought of it all, the diapers, the toys, the softness of everything, the tenderness all babies receive. That was all he needed to feel okay.

**********

As the small guitarist entered the hotel room, he paused at turning on the light. "No," he whispered to himself, "I wanna leave it dark, this time." It was as if he was still ashamed of his comfort zone. What he didn't realize was that two of his band mates were hiding in the coat closet. They watched through a slight crack in the door.

Pogo and Manson both watched in the darkness, the room slightly illuminated by moonlight from the window. They watched as Zim undressed. He went to his suitcase and pulled out a clean diaper, unfolding it and laying it out on the bed. Manson's eyes widened when he saw Zim lay down on the plush, crinkly fabric and proceeded to sprinkle himself with baby powder. He winced a little, his bottom was still red and sore from the diaper rash.

The two men silently watched as their band mate and friend rapidly regressed himself before their eyes. So many questions were buzzing around in their heads like flies on a carcass. Zim taped up the diaper snug around his hips and laid back in bed, sighing with relief. He whispered to himself, repeating, "it's okay, it's okay, it's okay, you're a baby now. No one can hurt you."

The two men in the closet watched, trying to take this all in. Zim went back to his bag and snatched up his teddy, hugging the brown bear in his arms lovingly. He looked so at peace, Pogo and Manson couldn't remember the last time they truly saw Zim like that.

Zim leaned back down to his bag again in search of his pacifier, but found nothing. A wave of panic suddenly rushed over him. He KNEW he put it in there! He unzipped every pocket, searched through every crevice of the bag, but found absolutely no sign of his beloved pacifier.

A soft crinkle sounded as he sat down on the floor and put his face in his hands, upset. "What good is a baby without his paci?" he whimpered. Pogo and Manson looked at eachother, concerned. They couldn't stand to see him like this. They knew what they had to do.

Zim jumped and gasped in fear as the closet door creaked open. He was absolutely horrified and stunned to see Marilyn and Pogo both standing there. Marilyn held something in his hand as he spoke, "Are...are you looking for this?" It was his pacifier.

Zim sat there, petrified and shaking. He was so vulnerable right now. They couldn't see him like this! "There's no way this is real," his voice quivered, "this isn't real." He pulled his knees to his chest and put his head down and began to cry. "I'm just a fussy baby," he cried in his soft babyish voice.

The two just stood there, not knowing what to do. After what seemed like hours, Pogo stepped forward, "Zim..." he said in a soft voice. "NO!" screamed the guitarist, "You're not fucking doing this to me!" He sobbed as he got up and ran straight into the bathroom, slamming the door and locking himself in. He slid down the door, feeling like he'd been crumpled up like paper and thrown in the trash.

Manson knocked on the door gently, "Come on, Zim...it's okay, man. Just come out so we can talk." There was no answer, the pair could hear nothing but his heart breaking sobbing. They kept trying to persuade him, "yeah man, it's completely okay, we're not here to judge you," said Pogo. But nothing. This situation was horrible.

Pogo looked at Marilyn, "Now what?"   
Good question.


	8. eight

Zim was still very much regressed as he cried, he sucked his thumb for comfort, wishing he hadn't dropped his teddy as he ran. Fifteen minuted had gone by. He still couldn't believe what was happening. If he were to open that door, he would be ambushed and laughed at. He couldn't trust anything right now, all he knew was that he wanted his teddy. He summoned the courage to choke out in a babyish voice, "I want my teddy."

The trembling in his voice really got to Manson and Pogo. They kept trying to persuade the fragile minded guitarist into coming out. The keyboardist tapped on the door quietly, and said with a gentle voice, "if you're a good boy and come out, you can have Teddy. We just wanna talk to you, Zimmy, that's all."

Zim wasn't having it. He didn't want to talk! He just wanted to be a baby and feel okay. He covered his ears and sobbed out loud. "No!" he cried into his knees again, "No tawk, wan Teddy!" The awful situation just made him regress further.

Manson cleared his throat and whispered to Pogo, "Maybe we should save the questions and everything else for later," he said. Pogo raised his eyebrows, "But still, how do we get him out?" Manson thought for a moment, if Zim wanted to be a baby, why should they try to stop him? He gave a small smirk, "Let's try to communicate in a way he'll understand," he explained, "Let's....let's give him what he wants. He'll come around."

Zim sat against the bathroom door, feeling drained and nauseated from sobbing. His hair and makeup a mess, his diaper soaked, he sat there and looked down at the cold tiled floor, sullenly. "Please leave, please leave, please leave..." he mumbled under his breath. He instinctively bit the tips on his fingers with nervousness, chipping the pretty red polish that stained his nails.

A soft knock made him jump a bit. "Zim....sweetie?" came the gushy voice of the singer. Hearing him like that made the guitarist suddenly feel calmer. After a short pause, Manson spoke again, much more gentle and sweet than Zim has ever heard before. "Zimmy, you don't have to talk to us if you don't want to, okay, baby?" he said.

Zim wiped his eyes and sniffled, shifting to stare at the door behind him with a crinkle. He suddenly wasn't sure how to feel. Before he could squeak out a response, Manson spoke again. "I have your teddy bear right here, sweetie. He misses you, won't you come out and give him hugs?" he coaxed. Pogo chimed in, shaking the plastic baby keys to tempt him, "We've got everything you need to be comfortable, Zimmy."

They heard Zim shift from behind the heavy door as he slowly stood up. Having the mind of a baby made him naturally curious, he decided to take his chances. With a trembling hand, he unlocked the door. The two older men watched with anticipation as the doorknob wiggled. The bathroom door opened a crack, and Zim peeked out from behind his hair, his green eyes were glossy and innocent.

"That's it!" praised Manson. He held up the teddy bear. The door creaked as it slowly opened, and out came a shaken Zim Zum. He avoided eye contact with the two men completely, gazing at the floor. They couldn't help but find him cute, they way he sucked his fingers babyishly, and attempted to hide his diaper with his shirt. The singer smiled, "Good boy! I knew you could do it, buddy!"

He offered the guitarist the little plush bear with a big smile. Zim forgot all about staring at the carpet and trying to hide his undergarment, as he squeaked and grabbed the bear faster than Manson could even hold it up. Pogo chuckled as Zimmy squeezed the bear to his chest, putting his thumb to his mouth. "Awe," he couldn't help himself but coo at the sight. He came over and knelt down sweetly, offering Zim his pacifier.

Without a second thought he opened his mouth, accepting the plastic bulb. They watched as the guard bobbed up and down as he sucked happily. Marilyn put his arm around Zim in attempt to lead him to the bed, "C'mon little tyke, you must be exhausted," he said. The baby didn't move and just blinked up at the taller man, looking confused. Manson raised an eyebrow and looked at Pogo. "Huh," he chuckled and shrugged before Pogo decided to take measures into his own hands.

With a soft grunt, he picked up the smaller man like a baby, carrying him a few feet over to the bed. This made Zim absentmindedly coo and giggle behind his pacifier, melting the keyboardist's seemingly cold heart. "Awe, you like being carried around, don't ya, little stinker?" He asked in a playful voice. Zim blushed a soft shade of pink and clapped like a little toddler.

The boy was sat down on the big hotel bed with a rustle of his diaper. He looked up at the two men as they whispered a few things, feeling nervous. He tried to pay no mind and turned his attention to the beautiful moonlight outside.

"Alright, who's gonna change him?" Pogo whispered to Manson. The singer smirked, he was taking a liking to Zim being this way. It was much better than seeing him sad and anxious all the time. "Because, you know....I'm, uh...not really good at that stuff," admitted Pogo. Marilyn held back an amused laugh, "and you think I am?" "Hey man, you were the one who wanted to find out so bad," chuckled Pogo. Marilyn nodded, "I'll change him," he looked over at the cutie sitting on the bed, looking dazed, "and I'll even give him a bottle afterward." The singer smiled brightly.

With that, Pogo slipped into the darkness, and Manson walked over to the bed, "Whatchya doin', cutie?" He tickled the younger man in the ribs gently, making him squeal and giggle as he wiggled his small frame. Marilyn grinned, "so I hear you need your diaper changed." The antichrist had gone parental as he took his index finger to the elastic playfully and took a peek inside the front of Zim's diaper. "Hmmm, yep!" he confirmed, pulling his finger back, "definitely need a change, there."

Zim put his hands over his blushing cheeks, and watched silently as Manson investigated his suitcase for diapers. He hadn't even remembered peeing! The singer came back to the bed with a clean diaper, wipes, and powder, for the little one. "Don't worry, I'll take care of it," he said as he unfolded the big diaper, "I don't want you getting a rash."

Zim allowed himself to lay back in the bed as Marilyn took over. He'd never changed a diaper before, let alone an adult diaper; But he figured, how hard could it be? It was at this point where Zim realized he was even more vulnerable than before. He lay there with a permanent blush, as the antichrist untaped and peeled off his dirty diaper, discarding it. He couldn't help but fuss a little, and Marilyn could tell he was uncomfortable.

"Shhh," He gave Zim the plastic keys to play with as he finished up wiping his groin and bottom. He attempted to distract the smaller man, "Tell me what colors they are, baby," he said in a sweet gushy tone that Zim soon began to adore. Zim sounded muffled behind the pacifier as he pointed to the red one, "wed." Manson nodded and listened as he finished up the job at hand.

He pointed to the blue one, "bwoo," and the yellow one, "yewwow," and the last one, the green one, "gween." He hadn't even noticed yet that his bottom was powdered and his diaper was taped up. That wasn't so hard. Marilyn gave another smile and praised him, "Very good! How'd you get to be so smart?" He gave the baby a soft pat on his butt, "See? All clean!" Zim couldn't help but beam up at the larger man.

"Are you ready for night-night?" asked the singer. Zim thought for a moment, before shaking his head, "Nuh-uh!" Marilyn smirked, figuring he would be stubborn. He went to retrieve the bottle from Zim's bag, "Oh? Well, maybe a bottle would help that." He knew the guitarist didn't drink milk, so he went to the hotel kitchenette and got some water.

Zimmy wiggled in the bed sheets as Marilyn returned. "Baba," he peeped out innocently. He held out his arms and made grabbing motions with his hands. "That's right, Zimmy!" he grinned and gently pulled the pacifier from Zim's lips. His cute little pout only lasted a second before his mouth willingly took in the rubber teat. Manson knew that water wasn't the same as warm milk, it wouldn't put him to sleep, so he took it upon himself to help out by cradling the smaller man and singing gently to him. "Take your hatred out on me," He sang, "Make your victim my head..."

Zim closed his eyes comfortably while he nursed. Manson continued to sing and rock him just a bit. All the while he thought back upon the night's events. Sure, Zim's way of dealing with his stress is pretty odd, but he didn't mind. In fact, he found it sort of intriguing. Manson just couldn't deny that he enjoyed this. He enjoyed seeing Zim in such a helpless position. Call him sick, but it just felt right.

He held Zim as the boy finally slept, playing the role of his guardian and protector. The questions and answers could wait. But honestly, Manson didn't care whether they'd come or not.

He preferred it this way.


	9. nine

It was now the early hours of the morning, and Manson didn't sleep. He couldn't. He needed to think about all that's happened between he and Zim, and the future for both of them. And he had to be awake in case Zim needed him. 'I don't want him to be sad anymore,' he thought. Thought after thought, they were buzzing around in his brain left and right as he held the young sleeping man. His pale cheeks were still faintly smudged with makeup from crying earlier last night. Manson took it upon himself to lightly clear some away with his thumb.

 

He was in a compromising situation. It was almost like love at first sight. He took care of Zim for a short amount of time and he fell in love with it. Manson wanted to be depended on. So many people had given up on him in his life. It was almost like he needed this to fill the void. Sure, music, alcohol, sex, and drugs could fill it to some extent, but there was still something missing. As he sat there stroking Zim's hair, he was confident that the guitarist could possibly fill it. So where do they go from here?

 

A sudden motion from Zim alerted Manson. He wiggled in his sleep and shifted, whining behind his pacifier. He made the sounds that a natural baby made. It was so cute it made the Antichrist's heart flutter. Manson did his best to hush the boy, pulling the blanket that fell from his body over him again. "It's okay," He whispered as soft as he could be. He held back a chuckle. He was surprised by his own softness, and thought he probably sounded silly. No, not to Zimmy. It got him to calm down just enough. His face in slumber looked so peaceful.

 

What if Zim could be his baby? The antichrist couldn't help but smile as he watched his unconscious motions. The guard was back to bobbing softly in the guitarist's mouth, as he spread his legs slightly. A subtle hiss was heard, and Manson knew that if Zim were to adapt, and let the singer care for him; He would be in for a lot more diaper changes in the future. He chuckled to himself again and smiled down at the young one. He didn't mind.

 

Wow, Zim's cuteness really got a hold of him. And it was squeezing tighter and tighter.

 

The singer looked across the room at the clock. It was nearing four in the morning. He figured that he could use some sleep, and decided to finally close his eyes. His thoughts were settled, but only for the time being.

 

*****

 

Around seven that morning, a distinct knocking was heard on the door. "Zim!, You seen Manson anywhere?" It was Ginger. Zim jumped awake, causing Marilyn to groan and stir from slumber himself. "I'm in here, Ginger," he answered, sounding sleepy and annoyed. "Oh," he heard from behind the door, followed by some snickering. "What the fuck do you want?" Manson growled, closing his eyes again, tiredly. "Everyone's getting ready to leave," was all Ginger said before walking away.

 

"Peachy," the singer sarcastically stated. He opened his eyes again to see Zim laying there in bed, trembling, and clutching the blankets. His eyes were wide from the very real fear of getting caught. Manson's voice went soft again, "Hey," he rested his hand on the little ones shoulder, "It's okay, he's gone now. It's just me, you're safe." He offered a smile and brushed some of the ebony locks away from Zim's pale face.

 

"Look at me," encouraged Manson. Zim obeyed and his eyes locked with the singer's. "Your secret is completely safe with me, baby. I promise." The guitarist returned a small, but unsure smile back as he sat up with a crinkle. A familiar cold wetness pressed against his groin, inevitably making him squeak slightly. The singer grinned and chuckled, knowing the situation that the poor baby was in, "Uh oh." It was time to show Zim once again how much he cared.

 

Manson took it upon himself to tug the blanket from Zim's small frame and inspect his thick diaper. This made the smaller man blush very hard and whine slightly. But Manson simply hushed him quietly and prod his crotch, poking a finger around the leg hole of the diaper. He already knew he was wet, but why not have some practice at checking?

 

"Aww, Zimmy, you're soaked!" he giggled, "Must've been that bottle." Manson gave a wink. The guitarist looked away and bit his nails, feeling embarrassed. "I-I'll get it..." he swiftly moved his hands down to the tabs on his diaper, but Manson calmly stopped him, putting his hands over the boy's. "Allow me," he insisted. Zim blinked with confusion, but submitted to his request as he slowly laid himself back down.

 

The Antichrist noticed the cute blush on his cheeks as he went to the bag again to retrieve a change. "Z, you're running low on diapers, hun," he warned. Zim looked confused as he watched him pick up another one, instead of his usual underwear. "Don't worry, I'll buy you some more," the singer said. He came around to the bed again and began to carefully change the guitarist, thinking back on last night to refresh his memory. Zim was still very confused, "...Manson," he peeped out.

 

Marilyn paid no attention and just put his paci into his mouth, "Hush, baby, it won't take too long," he encouraged. Zimmy blinked again but obeyed by sucking his pacifier cutely, slipping easily back into his regression. At the same time, his thoughts were racing with the feelings of both comfort and fear. Signals of panic were starting to be set off. The singer was agile, but did a very good job at cleaning Zim again. He mentally praised himself as he encased the younger man's bottom in the warmth of a fresh diaper once again. 'I think I could get used to this,' He thought to himself, 'but I don't look forward to a messy one,' He subconsciously laughed.

 

Zim sat up and looked down at the soft, crinkly undergarment. He felt great to have one on again, but he didn't want anyone to see. Marilyn went and quickly found Zim some clothes. He looked up at the tall man with fear in his eyes and pulled the paci from his mouth, shakily whispering, "What if someone sees?" Manson knelt down and began to help his pants on, "They won't," he assured, "Don't worry."

 

"You don't need to worry about anything other than playing your guitar, and being a baby behind closed doors," He smiled, continuing to dress Zim. He wanted so badly to say, 'Be my baby." The guitarist twirled his fingers shyly, "Will..will you be there when I'm a baby?" he looked up at the front man with big beautiful green eyes. Marilyn smiled, "Whenever I can be." Zimmy blinked innocently, and the frontman spoke again, "Because I really want to take care of you."

 

And that made Zim smile. He beamed. Manson had never seen him look so happy.

 

When he was dressed and packed up again, he stood up and cautiously looked down, nervously taking a step forward to adjust to the diaper under his jeans. He certainly wasn't used to wearing during the day, let alone under clothes! Manson had went to go and get ready to leave himself, Zim was left staring in the bathroom mirror. He kept turning to the side to make sure his bum didn't look too puffy. Questionable looks toward his bottom were the last things he needed. But no one said that keeping a secret like this was going to be easy.

 

He was startled when Manson frantically came in again, "You ready?" Zim blushed and nodded, "Yep."

 

They left the hotel, and this time, Zim was actually looking forward to the night ahead of him. This was only the beginning to everything.


	10. ten

Zim entered the tour bus behind Manson, a jacket tied around his small frame to keep the band mates from suspicious glances. He wanted so badly to grab hold of the front man's hand for comfort, but he knew he couldn't. They both took a seat toward the back of the bus, where Pogo was watching them with intrigue. Twiggy and Ginger both peeked behind their seats to stare rudely at Manson and Zim. "So...how was last night, you two?" Twiggy asked, giggling like a schoolgirl. Zim swallowed hard and looked away, hoping to god they wouldn't notice the blush creeping up his cheeks.

Manson cleared his throat, "So I decided to share a room with Zim, so what?" He asked in a cocky manner. Twiggy stuck out his tongue, "Oh, I think you know what," he said, "Was he as good as he looks?" This comment caused Zim to burst into laughter unexpectedly. He covered his mouth shyly, "M'sorry," he peeped out between giggles. Everyone looked at him, almost amazed. They hadn't heard Zim laugh in ages! What gives?!

Manson decided to laugh with him, "It seems Zimmy here is a real lightweight," he said, "I helped him back to his hotel room, and ended up passing out before I could leave." Ginger and Twiggy both looked at each other, as if they were satisfied with the answer he gave, and turned back. "Yeah right, " He heard Twiggy mumble. Pogo did nothing but smile at them, knowing the truth.

And suddenly, things didn't seem so bad. Zim had a rush of unexpected confidence overcome him as he sat in the bus seat beside his new daddy. He felt exceptionally playful, feeling the cushy warmth surrounding his bottom as he sat there. He almost couldn't sit still. Manson looked over at him fidgeting and smiled, knowingly. "I could get used to this diapered during the day thing," thought Zim. And he certainly could, the singer would make sure of it.

It was hours before they reached the next hotel, and Zim had dozed off somewhere along the lines with his head resting on Manson's shoulder, peacefully. The singer, of course, didn't mind. But as usual, this made more speculation for Twiggy and Ginger to snicker softly to themselves. They could think whatever they want, but Manson knew they could never find out the truth. He didn't even want to think about all the humiliation poor Zim would be put through. No, they firmly had to keep this secret swept under the rug.

He smiled at the sleeping guitarist beside him, and would pleasantly stroke his hair when the others weren't looking. He knew, being that it was damn near three hours into the road trip, that Zim was probably wet by now. He would certainly be due for a diaper change soon. Marilyn didn't mind what needed to be done, he was just glad that his guitarist was feeling better. Whatever he could do to keep him at his best, he would do, even if it meant getting his hands dirty.

The bus soon pulled over to a gas station, and Zimmy promptly woke. His face held panic for a moment, knowing that he fell asleep and must have wet, but when he looked up at Manson beside him, he relaxed. He wanted to sigh loudly with relief. Just moments after stopping, Pogo, Ginger, and Twiggy all eagerly raced off the small bus to get some fresh air and probably a fix for their case of the munchies. Manson and Zim, however, headed to the small bathroom at the back of the bus.

"Daddy," Zim whined, "There's no room for a change in here," he lowered his voice to a whisper so no one would hear. Manson smiled, his heart warmed by the guitarist's cuteness. He sat down on the toilet lid and began to undo Zim's jeans. "I'm just doing what you're supposed to do with babies," Manson said, "I'm just checking you, right now." Zim felt a blush creep up his cheeks as the singer pulled his jeans down to inspect his diaper. No surprise when he found it soaked.

"S'wet," Zim mumbled the obvious, twisting his foot on the ground. Manson pulled his jeans back up gently, reassuring him with a gentle butt pat. "We're almost to Nevada. I'll change you when we get to the hotel, think you can hold off until then, hun?" He asked. Zim nodded, "Just don't let me fall asleep," he said. Manson nodded and stood up after re-buttoning the smaller man's pants. He leaned in and pressed his lips to Zim's forehead gently, before embracing him, "It's okay, I'll take care of you, Zimmy." He knew damn well the guitarist was fragile.

Thank goodness they exited the bathroom just before the others hurdled their way back in. Everyone gave the two a strange look, but Manson had no care. And suddenly, Zim had remembered something that made him want to grin from ear to ear. Their concert wasn't until tomorrow evening, and he would have this whole night to be Manson's baby. That made Zimmy very, very happy.

~*~

There were a few truly dedicated fans that had been waiting for them upon their arrival, held back by security, of course. Their screams rang in Zim's ears as he exited the bus with everyone else, retrieving his luggage. The sun was just starting to set that evening as he walked into the hotel, closely behind Manson. "Hotels always smell the same," he quietly noted, making the singer chuckle.

As they went up to their room, Zim could feel the uncomfortable wet padding between his legs. He pouted up at Marilyn, who just pat his head and reassured that he would be clean soon. He hoped that no one in the bus could make out the faint scent or urine, or that his diaper leaked and someone had noticed. His thoughts were pushed away just as Manson opened the door.

The guitarist was very happy to see the bed waiting for him, and he took it upon himself to jump on it with a sigh. The singer locked the door and laughed at his baby's actions, "Silly boy," he teased. Zim turned onto his back in the bed, taking it upon himself to wiggle like the baby he was, "Da da take it offfff," he whined fussily, "Ish cold." The baby pouted. He was honestly thankful that their room was nowhere near their band mate's, so he wouldn't have to watch the tone of his voice.

"Shhhhh," hushed Manson, "Daddy's gunna take it off, hold on." He reached into the guitarist's bag and firstly retrieved the pacifier to calm the boy. Zim accepted the bulb as Manson held it to his lips. "Did I leak?" peeped Zimmy through his paci. Manson gathered the essential items to make Zim clean again, "I'm not sure," He turned the smaller man on his side and felt his diapered bum through his jeans, "No...I don't think much, if you did," he said. What a relief.

He gently undressed the guitarist from the waist down, and set to changing his diaper. He playfully poked Zimmy's tummy, "My little boy sure can wet, can't he?" he teased. Zim giggled and squirmed against the sheets as Manson wiped his groin and bottom. "Do not!" He stuck out his tongue, and Manson laughed. "Oh, I think you do too!" He chimed. He leaned down and blew raspberries on Zimmy's tummy playfully, throwing the guitarist into a fit of giggles. "Does Baby Zimmy wanna watch cartoons with Daddy, tonight?" cooed the singer, as he unfolded the big clean diaper. Zim smiled wide and nodded, "ya ya!" he said. "Yeah, I bet you do," Manson grinned and sprinkled Zim with baby powder.

He really enjoyed hearing Zim's laughter, knowing that the guitarist was enjoying himself. He honestly felt proud of himself for playing such an important role in his life. Zim's diaper was taped snug, and once again, Manson felt satisfied with himself. He smiled at his work, knowing the guitarist was feeling safe and dry, like all babies should.

Zim clapped happily and sat up with little hesitation, "Can we watch cartoonies now?" he eagerly asked, bouncing his padded bottom on the mattress. Manson smiled and took a seat beside him, remote in hand, "Sure, kiddo." He turned the television to some channel with a show that featured a wallaby by the name of Rocko. He got Zim a bottle of juice and they sat cuddled together in bed watching the silly show.

And for once, things were looking up for Zim. He hadn't remembered a time where he felt this good. His anxiety had been hushed by the tall singer next to him, the anxiety Zim was sure he would be plagued with forever. He finally felt like he had worth. As they sat and watched, his eyes inevitably filled with babyish tears, but Daddy didn't realize that they were good tears. He quickly went to the guitarist's aid when he saw them glistening in the light as they fell down his cheeks.

"Baby, what's the matter? Are you okay?" He asked frantically. His new fatherly instincts were showing through his tough facade. Zim just nodded with a small smile, wiping his tears away with the loving help of his daddy. "Yeah, I'm fine," He said, "I just....I'm happy." He looked up at the singer, his green eyes illuminated by the television, "Thank you."

Manson understood why he was emotional, and simply cuddled the guitarist tightly, "Your happiness matters, Zim." He said. He rocked the smaller man in his lap, understanding his tears. This was tenderness that Zim never thought he would receive in a million years. He was going to cherish every minute of this new-found parental love that he'd always wanted to receive. He would take it, and hold it so near to his heart, as things could have gone worse when Manson found out, way worse. He felt beyond thankful, so much so that he just wanted to cry. That's exactly what he did, and Manson never let go of him. He hushed him gently and whispered sweet nothings in his ear as the night progressed.

"This is how you're supposed to be, Zim."


End file.
